Resurrecting Ghosts (MC Romance) (Kings of Chaos Book 4)

by Shyla Colt

  “We’re going to call on Hell’s Dominion and see if they want first crack. That keeps our hands clean and them from feeling slighted. We don’t want to butt heads with them over this petty motherfucker.”

  I ball my fists. Everything he says is on point. My need for revenge isn’t worth what could be a war. “It’s all what’s best for the club, Pres.”

  “Good man. What’s your Old Lady say about it?” Stone asks.

  “Not much. She’s hitting up her mom and sister this morning to see why he climbed out of the hole he’s been hiding in. Her mom is pissed we’re together.” I look at Stone. The baby news hasn’t come out yet. I want to keep it that way a while longer.

  He nods to show me he understands.

  “So what you plan on doing?” our VP, Scratch asks.

  “I’m going to reach out to them, extend some southern hospitality and see what comes of it,” Stone explains. “If they give me the go ahead, we’ll proceed our way. If not, we’re going to get out shit ready for them to come through. I know for a fact they were pissed he slipped through their fingers. With all eyes on the beef, they never felt comfortable going for him again. It’d be too obvious. By now, he’s pissed off quite a few people over the years.”

  “So it could be anyone,” Scratch concludes.

  “Exactly. Before I reach out, I wanted to run this by everyone. It’s not a vote. I’m just getting a feel of the general consensus. All for contacting HD, say aye.”

  “Aye,” a vast majority states.

  “Against it, nay.”

  “Nay,” a few call out.

  “The Aye’s have it, so we’re all on board anyways. I’ll make calls. I want people keeping an eye out for Ruthie at all times. If he so much as says hi to her, I want to know. I want to try to keep this from the press. He was vague in the article, but someone doing their work could figure it out.” Stone looks over at me. “You got some place else you could post up until this blows over, just in case?”

  I think about my grandparents’ home. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Might want to take her there for a while,” Stone suggests.

  I nod my head. “I can do that.” She likes the place. I might even get her to go without too much fuss.

  “We all need to be vigilant,” Scratch advises. “The media and M.C.’s ain’t never been a good combination. Watch who you talk to, what you do, and who’s around.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Stone says with a snort. “Listen up, this club’s been in the trenches recently, but we survived. We’re a stronger club, free of the elements that were rotting us from the inside out. I been thinking of taking on some prospects. So, keep your eyes and ears open. We need some fresh blood and reasons to celebrate again. I’ve had enough of this dark shit to last me a lifetime. We need to move on from the shit that happened.”

  His words are permission to put Mouth’s betrayal and the fucked up by-laws behind us. We have a vision for the future we’re trying to put into effect. To create a place where the only thing a man is judged by is his merit, loyalty, and willingness to put the club above all. It’s hard enough these days to find those qualities without worrying about skin pigment.

  I’ve always been proud to wear this cut and fly these colors. But in this moment…that feeling doubles.

  Stone swings his eagle eyed gaze over all of us. “I know it’s early and for some of you, the night hasn’t ended yet. So, I’m dismissing you with another warning to be cautious and crafty. We’ve held up over time because we’re smart. It’s better to be quick and cunning than to use brute strength. If you see anything that doesn’t look or feel right, me and Scratch want to know about it immediately. Now get your asses out of here and get some rest.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ruthie

  “Why exactly did you force me to call off work and kidnap me?” Rochelle asks.

  “Because I need you and you owe me. Did you know Dad was there the other day?”

  “No. I only mentioned him because Mom brought him up earlier that day. It got me wondering about things.”

  “You realize she’s the one who called him down here, right?”

  “No. No way. She wouldn’t do that, Ruthie. She hates him with a passion.”

  “Not as much as she hates motorcycle clubs, apparently.”

  “You really can’t believe that,” Ruthie replies.

  “He told me as much.”

  “I just—I have a real hard time accepting that.” Rochelle glances out the window.

  I can’t help but feel sympathy. “How the hell else would he know when and where I was going to be, Roch? Do you really have blinders on after all these years?”

  “She’s the only parent we have. I don’t want to think the worst.”

  I sigh. “That’s the difference between you and I…I already do.”

  “What are you going to do when we get there?” Rochelle whispers.

  The fear in her voice makes me smile. The smile every woman has before she loses her shit. She should be afraid of me right now. I’m a pregnant woman protecting her unborn child and my life with its parent. Unlike my mother, I don’t plan on doing this solo or letting outside forces drive a wedge between us. I can’t say what went wrong with her and Dad outside of his drug abuse. There was a long period of happy normalcy. We never talked about it. I know I’ll be damned, if I let the cycle of broken home continue with me.

  Rochelle got her happy-every-after, and I’m going to get mine. Whether it looks like the traditional fairytale or not, is my business. I could never be happy with what people think of as the American dream. “I’m going to get answers,” I vow.

  Rochelle clears her throat. “I don’t know if this is the best way to go about it.”

  “You don’t get it. I’m fighting to keep my family. Not just the one in my belly, you, and maybe even Mom if she decides to stop acting bat shit crazy. I’m Skull’s Old Lady now. What he and his President say goes. If they think you’re a threat, or a liability to the club, that’s it.” I snap my fingers.

  “And you would let that fly?” she asks incredulously.

  “I signed on for this, Rochelle.”

  “Ugh, it’s disgusting, archaic, male chauvinist bullshit.”

  “It keeps everyone safe. I can depend on any of those men and women to help me if I need it. Can you say that about many people with one-hundred percent clarity? I know you don’t understand it. All I ask is you don’t judge what you don’t know.”

  “You sound brainwashed right now,” Rochelle says.

  “No, I sound real. I hope to God, you didn’t have anything to do with what went down at the festival. Because if you did, I can’t save you.”

  “Save me? Are you saying they’d hurt me?”

  I remain silent, letting the seriousness of the situation sink in.

  “Oh, God. I didn’t know. I swear. I would never do that to you.”

  Her words sound true, but the test will come when I see her and Mom together. I would never let anyone hurt my sister. But I would cut her out of my life if she betrayed me. I chose this life and now I have to live it.

  An uncomfortable quiet comes in the car. I turn on the classic rock station and let Journey drown out my racing thoughts.

  Mom is sitting on the porch drinking coffee from her favorite violet mug with the wild flower pattern. She pushes off with her foot, rocking the porch swing back and forth, with not a care in the world.

  It sickens me that she can enjoy herself while she’s cast me and mine into a pit of drama.

  She arches a perfectly groomed brow at us as we exit the car. “Well, what a lovely surprise. My girls both coming to visit me this beautiful morning.”

  “Cut the pleasantries, Mother. We’re not here to visit. We’re here for answers.”

  “Always so willful and rude,” Mo
ther drawls.

  “I’m done with your games. You were the one who called Dad, weren’t you?”

  “I figured for once in his miserable life, he could do right by you.”

  “By stirring up trouble for you, me, and Rochelle? What do you think will happen if the press decides to dig up skeletons and find us? Don’t you remember what that was like?”

  “Better than you do, little miss,” she snaps.

  “So why? What’s so wrong with Skull that you would risk tearing apart our lives?”

  Her lip curls upward. “I simply cannot stomach the thought of you with those savages.”

  Savages? I mouth the word feeling like I’m in an alternate reality. “What are you judging them by? Those men Dad was involved with were heavy hitters. Into everything from sex trade to drugs and illegal gun running. They’re not the same as KOC.”

  “Sure you think that, until you cross them. The minute you don’t give them what they want, they’ll show their true colors. Scarlet red, like the blood that will run and sin itself. I’ve seen the worst of what this life you’re living offers. You think they struck out at your father directly? Oh no, I was the pathway they deemed best. The men we’d had in our homes, at our barbeques. The charming bastards with the devil may care grins, long hair and what I thought were jovial spirits…they brutalized. What are you going to do when your man’s brother is the one raining down blows and raping you? Violating you in the worst way possible.”

  I gasp and cover my mouth. All this time, she held in this ugliness.

  Rochelle begins to sob openly beside me.

  “I tried to shelter you. Raise you up right, so you wouldn’t go the route I did. But you.” She points at me. “You always had too much of your father in you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask.

  “Why? So you could pity me?” She shakes her head. “I made my peace with it.”

  “No, you didn’t, or you wouldn’t live the way you do.”

  “After all this, you still love them more than me, don’t you?” Mom asks.

  “It’s not a matter of who I love more.”

  “Isn’t it? Do you have any clue what it took for me to call your father and ask for help? All of this was his fault. It soured what was left of our marriage. I could survive the binges. In-between the lapses he tried so hard to make it right. I could almost forget about the late nights, manic behavior, and long lengths of time we spent apart. But after that…I could barely look at him. It was leave or murder him in his sleep. I couldn’t live with the fear that they might come for my girls…” Her voice broke. There’s so much pain in her eyes.

  My stomach rolls. I open my mouth and take deep breaths to combat the bile trying to escape my throat. “Mom, you need help.”

  “I made the best of my life. I’m happy. Some wounds can’t be healed.”

  “That’s not true,” I argue. So many things come together to form the puzzle that’s been my mother’s bizarre behavior my entire life. Why she never dated after Dad. Her irrational fears about attracting the wrong attention. Her and my father’s insistence we be proficient in self-defense and firearms. God, how had I not figured this shit out? “Tell me what you told him, Mom. That’s all I’m asking.” I want to help her, but I can see she’s not open to it.

  “The truth, he needed to get his ass here and do something before you got swallowed up by the MC world.”

  “Did you tell him about the baby?”

  She glances away.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! That’s not your business to tell,” I hiss.

  “We are your parents.”

  “No, you are my parent. He gave up the privilege a longtime ago. Is this all you told him?”

  She purses her lips.

  “Mother, I’m serious!”

  “I didn’t have to say anything else,” she says cattily.

  “What did he ask you?”

  “Where he could find you.”

  “And you gave him my hours for the festival, what else?” I say.

  “Your address, phone number.”

  “Mom, did you tell him where I work?”

  “No, I’m sure he can find it on his own, given his profession.”

  “Shit. Why is he doing this?” I ask.

  “Isn’t it obvious? So you don’t go through what I did!” she all but screams.

  “It’s not the same fucking thing!” I slap the arm of the swing, and she jerks.

  “How can you be so cold, after what she just told us?” Rochelle.

  “Because this is my life.”

  “She obviously needs her family,” Rochelle says.

  The look of triumphant that flares to life in my mother’s gaze stuns me. She’s more calculating than I ever gave her credit for. “You’re my mother. I love you, and I will always be grateful for every single thing you did for me. Problem is right now, I don’t like you or trust you. Maybe one day, when you decide having me in your life is more important than controlling what my life will look like, we can set up boundaries and reestablish a relationship. I’m sorry for the pain you went through. I won’t pretend to fathom what any of that felt like. If you ever want to get help, I’ll be there to support you one hundred percent.”

  “So, this is what I get for thirty-three years of parenting? A dear Jane letter?”

  “No, I’m doing this to your face. Your actions have put us here. I have to look out for my family now. My child will always come first.”

  “Your biker too, right?” She sneers.

  “If you really care for me, you’ll call Dad and have him call this off. There are plenty of people out there who aren’t happy with him. I don’t think he can afford to be making new enemies, or drawing attention to himself again, in this world.” I turn to look at my sister. “Are you coming?”

  Rochelle shakes her head. “No, I think I’ll sit a spell,” she says.

  Her choice isn’t lost on me. I would be surprised, but it’s always been this way, the two of them together with me on the outside. I hold my head high as I retrace my steps to the car, determined not to let them see how much I’m breaking down on the inside. The tears don’t start until I’m off the street.

  My body shakes, and I pull off to the side of the road. I finally understand my mother better than I ever have and yet, I’ve never been as far away. Everything I’ve embraced is all that she hates. How can we ever meet in the middle? I won’t have a grandmother who bad mouths my child’s father. It sends mixed signals and makes the child have to pick sides. I want to provide the healthiest environment possible. I’ll have enough contend with just being a part of KOC.

  My phone rings. I want to ignore it, but the ‘Bad Motherfucker’ track from MGK is for Skull. “Yeah,” I say.

  “What’s wrong, where are you?”

  “A few streets away from my mom. She—it didn’t go well. She called Dad. Told him about the baby and us. I don’t know what kind of picture she painted, but I can bet it was the exact opposite of the truth.”

  “Fuck, no wonder he’s going Last Crusade like he’s Indiana Jones.”

  “They beat her, raped her.”

  “Who?”

  “The Hell’s Dominion. After Dad did what he did.”

  “Jesus, Ruthie. I’m so sorry.”

  “She hates you because of them, and I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. You need to calm down. You need me?”

  “I don’t know what I need,” I answer with a shaky laugh.

  “Come home.”

  “I don’t want to go home. He knows where I live.”

  “I’m going to be there waiting for you. Then you and I are going to disappear for the rest of the day.”

  “Is that okay?”

  ‘It’ll be fine. Relax, and let me take
care of you for once.”

  “Okay?”

  “Good, Mama. I’ll meet you there.”

  Just like that, he talks me down off a ledge with his gruff voice and one sentence. We’re settling in and finding our way. Some days it seems everything is rocky, but us. I think of the things my parents went through and the way his ended. Secrets and lies, even to ourselves only prolongs the break down and leads to dysfunction. Thinking of his nightmares, I dial the woman who kept me from going down the wrong path.

  ***

  Skull

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Ruthie asks as she cranes her neck to see out the window. She perked up after I’d stuffed her full of cheesecake pancakes and milk.

  We hit a red light and I take a moment to study her. Sadness lingers in her eyes. It makes me want to rip her parents apart. Even if they didn’t agree with her choice in baby daddy’s, they had no right to react like this. She’s a thirty something successful, independent, intelligent, and beautiful woman. What more could a parent ask for? I knew my Grandma and Grandpa would’ve loved her.

  She tucks her legs under her and rises up, all but pressing her face to the glass.

  “You’re like a little kid right now. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  She turns toward me and lowers her sunglasses. Her green eyes are dancing with mirth. “You never surprised me before.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I’ve surprised you a time or two, remember that time at the party?”

  “With something not related to sex,” she says.

  I chuckle. “If you want it, ask for it ‘cause I’m clueless otherwise.”

  “I never figured you for the type to care,” she counters.

  “About?”

  “What I wanted, outside of the bedroom.”

  I clench my jaw. I deserve that. The old me didn’t care. “Now, you know better.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “You want to talk about anything?” I ask.

  She giggles.

  “What?”

  “Usually, this is my line.”

  “All you have to do is say no,” I mumble.